REALITY
by SANDEFUR
Summary: Past, present, future...
1. Chapter 1

REALITY

By SANDEFUR

Joan Girardi took a refreshing sip of coffee and turned the page on the day calendar. December 24, 2008 and it was the longest, busiest day of the year at Sky Light Books (everyone's last moment gift idea always seemed to be a book). No matter, she was looking forward too much to tomorrow to care about today's shopping frenzy. The two Sammys were by the door, counting down the last few minutes before opening for that day's business. They were a reassuring source of stability in Joan's life. Sammy I, still snippy and dressed like a college freshman despite the fact he ran an upscale bookstore. His partner, Sammy II, nattily dressed and as fussy as ever. (Briefly she wondered why she could never remember their last names, even after all these years).

So much had changed in the last few years, and this Christmas was the holiday where the entire family would finally be together after a long time. Kevin and his wife were now in New York City where he was an anchorman, and they were expecting their first child. Kevin's recovery from his injuries was nearly complete, and he now only needed a cane to get around.

Luke and Grace were now living in Massachusetts with their two year old, Annie. Luke had zipped through his bachelor's degree in only two years, and he worked as a T.A. while studying for his master's. Grace was working for a literary magazine with a radical bent, and was beginning to develop a following for her poetry.

Will Girardi, no longer a cop, was now the mayor of Arcadia. When the state had restored the city's charter, Will had been the acclaimed choice of both political parties. No one had dared run against the hero who had cleaned up the city. Also, Helen no longer taught since her art career had taken off, and her paintings were in such demand, people were bidding on them before the paint dried.

No, the only one whose life was virtually unchanged was Joan's. She was still a student, a pre-law junior at Arcadia College. She still lived at home—primarily to save her parents living costs during her college years. And, she was still a virgin at 21.

Now there was a consistency. The only guys who ever seemed interested in her were psychos, creeps and weirdoes. All of them were God projects that she was supposed to befriend and help fix their messed-up lives. Her Adam Rove experience had taught her not to get romantically involved with these "clients."

The bell over the door dinged and a small crowd of customers rushed in and spread out amongst the book stacks. Only one customer went directly to the counter where Joan was. The former Cute-Boy, who had allowed himself to appear to age, and who Joan now thought of as Cute-Guy God.

"Good Morning Joan. Looking forward to your holiday tomorrow?"

"You know I am. I haven't been this excited about Christmas since I was a little kid. The only thing we need is a little snow. How about it?"

"Sorry Joan, I don't interfere that way."

"Aww, c'mon, we've never had snow in all the years I've been in Arcadia. I mean look at it…" (she points out the window) "the trees still have green leaves on them, except for those weird little trees that always have brown ones." (She noticed the wind had picked up while a familiar looking man across the street stared at her…) "So, ah, as a favor, just a couple on inches of snow?"

"It wouldn't matter Joan. You won't be here to enjoy it."

"What? An out of town assignment on Christmas? Unfair!"

"No Joan, it's time to go back."

A look of horror appeared on Joan's face. "Oh please… no. Not again. I'm finally happy here."

But her plea was ignored. All that was around her faded away and suddenly she was back at Arcadia High in September of 2003. Cute-Boy God was before her, yammering on about her family, her favorite color, salt on cantaloupes and so forth.

With a scream of despair, Joan woke up in her bed at the sanitarium.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

REALITY TOO

A shaky Joan reached for the light on the nightstand. The light revealed a small, institutional room that was brightened by some of her personal touches. A wire mesh covered the only window, but Joan knew the door was unlocked. This was a minimum security facility.

Joan rose from the bed, slipped on a robe and poured herself a glass of water. Joan looked out the window at the thick blanket of snow, courtesy of a Chicago winter. A brief knock on the door was followed by the entry of the night nurse.

"Joan, are you okay? I saw your light come on."

"I had another one of those dreams."

"I'm sorry Joan, I know how much they disturb you. Dr. Daniels did say the dreams would be the occasional side effect of the medication."

Joan nodded. "And it's better to suffer the occasional dream than to be lost in that world of Arcadia every waking moment."

"And what did Dr. Daniels say to do after these dreams?"

"To recenter myself by facing the harshness of my real existence."

"Start with me."

"Okay, you're Mrs. Grace Polk, a nurse who started at this facility a week after I was admitted, after my mental breakdown at 15. You're 30 years old, and we did not go to high school together, and you certainly were never involved with my younger brother."

"And why is that?"

"Because Luke died at 14 of leukemia. 'He needs iron,' indeed."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, one of the things Dr. Daniels pointed out was that in the fantasy world I was lost in for so many years, I would leave myself hints to remind me of my real life. In one of those fantasies, Goth Kid told me Luke needed iron. In reality, Luke was at first thought to be anemic until the leukemia diagnosis came."

"And what about the rest of your family?"

Joan paused and then began the litany. "My Dad was killed when I was three years old in a shoot-out with a bank robber. My brother Kevin did suffer a terrible injury in a car crash, but he was alone, drunk and totally at fault when he rammed his car into a pole. He's paralyzed from the neck down, and will spend the rest of his life in an extended care facility."

"And what about Annie?"

"She's my half-sister and she was two when I first came in here. She's eight now, and her father is Jeremy, my Mom's second husband."

"And what's special about tomorrow?"

"It's Christmas and I'll be getting my first day pass since coming in here."

"And now for the big question: do you know why you are here?"

Joan sighed. "I was experiencing that when I woke from my dream. Cute-Boy was going through his usual list that proved he knew me, and getting everything wrong. My age, Dad's birthdate, Eleanor Monroe-whoever that is-was not my grandmother. She was Maria Martinelli, and had an Italian accent thick enough to cut with a knife. Green is not my favorite color, I'm not afraid of clowns and I put salt on watermelon, not cantaloupe."

"And Jim Dawes? I know this is hard, Joan."

Joan's voice trembled. "He didn't break my heart in the 8th grade. I didn't meet him until freshman year, and I knew right away that he was a dangerous creep. I rejected him the only time he asked me out. Then, the day of Luke's funeral, I was alone in the cemetery's chapel, praying. Jim Dawes found me, knocked me to the floor and... raped me. My Mom found me there, unconscious."

Joan paused, battling with this horrible memory that she so wanted to suppress. No, that's the path that took her to the Arcadia nightmare. Bravely, she forced herself to deal with every painful detail.

"My inability to cope with so many tragedies in my life, especially the last one, caused my mind to shut down. I've spent six years in this place lost in my fantasy world. Then, three months ago, a new medication helped me regain a hold on reality. I was surprised I had incorporated so many of the people here into my Arcadia experience."

"For instance, Dr. Daniels isn't your mean vice-principal, Gavin Price."

Joan chuckled. "A good example,"

"Are you ready to go back to bed?"

Joan nodded and Nurse Polk helped Joan off with her robe and tucked her into bed like a little girl.

"Goodnight Joan."

"Goodnight Mrs. Polk."

With the light turned off and the door closed, Joan shut her eyes and relaxed. Time passed, but sleep was elusive. Really, how could anyone sleep in this heat and humidity, not to mention the racket caused by all those crickets and frogs... Wait, in a Chicago winter?

Desperately, Joan didn't want to open her eyes.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

REALITY FOR THREE

The room was small and dorm-like, but more rustic. It was a little cabin with two saggy beds, lit by a single 40 watt bulb. Joan was on one bed and a red haired girl was on the other one, slowly rocking to and fro. The girl had a small bald patch at the top of her head, and she was carefully examining a strand of hair as if trying to make a decision.

Darlene the hairpuller, Joan remembered. Darlene noticed Joan looking at her, gasped and turned her face to the wall. She began rocking faster—lost in her own private hell. Right, Joan recalled, direct eye contact was a no-no. Joan's natural empathy rose up in her, and she wished she could help her roommate—but how? If only she could get a hint from…

Joan whimpered in pain and frustration. No, HE wasn't real. Instantly, Judith, who had been half asleep in a chair, came to her bedside.

"Jo-Jo, are you okay?"

"Judith? Are you real?"

"As real as the meat loaf in the dining hall, and a lot easier to digest."

"I'm in crazy camp, right?"

"Gentle Acres, if you please. Bad dreams?"

"Yeah, and lots of them. Dreams of the past, dreams of the future, all mixed together."

Judith sat on her bedside. "You know what Dr. Dan would say. You're dreaming of the past and future because you don't want to deal with the reality of today."

"But what's real? All those times I talked with God, he/she seemed as real as you are right now. But… those were hallucinations caused by my illness… I think. How can I ever be sure what's real?"

Judith took Joan's hand. "I'm real, and you can always trust that. Judith Montgomery, fifty percent of Jonith, and zero percent dream."

"It's not Christmas Eve, is it? In my dreams it was Christmas Eve."

"No girlfriend, it's the middle of summer. The closest we've come to Christmas is in the common room with all those dumb Christmas-in-July ads on TV."

"Yeah, that makes sense." Joan said with a big yawn.

"Hey, it's a couple of hours until sunrise. Why don't you try to get some sleep?"

"Sleep? Just more crazy dreams…"

"You're okay Jo-Jo. I'll be right by your side, I promise. Just remember, two things are unshakably true…"

"Judith is real, and God… isn't."

Joan's eyelids began to droop as Judith gently caressed her hair. She noticed Darlene watching them.

"What are you looking at, freak?"

Joan murmured, "Be nice Judith, we all have our problems."

"I can't help it, there's something wrong about her…" (to Darlene) "Why don't you get out of here?"

Wordlessly, and without making any eye contact, Darlene grabbed her robe, slippers and handbag. Hastily, she exited while Judith smiled triumphantly.

Outside, in the dark, muggy night, "Darlene" suddenly transformed. Her shoulders no longer sagged and her face was no longer fearful. Instead, a confident young woman with a smug look of superiority stood in her place.

She removed an item from her purse that was strictly forbidden at Gentle Acres- a cell phone. She loved this part. So far this summer she had been Abigail, Brenda, Charlotte, and now Darlene. And in all those psychiatric facilities for troubled teens, she had fooled everyone. The doctors, the counselors, the other kids all thought she was crazy hair-puller girl, but in reality, she was a spy.

The cell phone connected and she spoke hastily. "It's me. I'm sorry to call so early, but my voluntary commitment ends this afternoon, and now is the only time I'll have to talk privately for several hours. I found another one, and she fits all your criteria."

(There is a pause while she listened to a question.) "Yes sir, security here is a joke. I've already copied her complete file and I'll fax it to you as soon as I'm out of this dump. The girl's name is Joan Girardi."

Another brief pause before she continued, "Yes sir, I know one is less than our usual average, but she fits the profile better than all the others. Perhaps I'll have better luck at the next camp, when I'll be Emily. I'll keep in touch, sir. Goodbye, Mr. Hunter."

The End. PLEASE REVIEW


End file.
